Tempting Fate (82 page)

Gudrun shook her head, wishing she could think of something to say. Was it proper to thank her, and pretend that she misunderstood what Frau Bürste was telling her? Her thoughts flitted like frightened minnows, and she did not know what to do.

“You are lovely as lilies and birch trees,” Frau Bürste said, “and because you are slender and pretty, they all think you are weak; they do not know how much strength you have, and what burdens you have carried. I have not been deceived, and I have been astonished by what you have done to save your brother, this house, your life.”

“No. Don’t,” Gudrun protested halfheartedly, too much relieved by what Frau Bürste said to want her to stop. She had not been wholly misunderstood. Someone other than Ragoczy had known how difficult her life was. She smiled at her housekeeper.

“If I were as strong as you are,” Frau Bürste went on less hectically, “I would have enough courage to leave you, but … it isn’t possible, unless you send me away. I pray you will not. It would be agony to wonder every day how you are and what has become of you, with only Miroslav and Otto to look after you. Miroslav does not care for you, but for the estate, and Otto is … old. And old-fashioned.” She frowned, and did not continue.

“Old-fashioned; Yes, he certainly is that,” Gudrun said in the silence.

“He doted on Maximillian,” Frau Bürste added with a touch of resentment.

“Maxl was his favorite. He never recognized how much…” Gudrun stopped, belatedly reminding herself that she must not be so open with her staff, not even with Frau Bürste—especially with Frau Bürste—where those of her family and social class were concerned. Yet she had to talk with someone, and Ragoczy was gone, to Wien or Praha or Berlin, and there was no one else she felt she could trust.

Suddenly Frau Bürste mastered herself. “What is the matter with me?” she asked the air. “You must want a cup of coffee and a little tart. I’ve made some up with apples, and you’ll like them, I think.” She began to bustle about the kitchen, taking a plate from the cupboard and hurrying into the pantry.

Gudrun had been unable to finish her lunch and doubted that she could face food now, but years of training could not be denied, and she remembered her father telling her about appreciating willing servants. Frau Bürste was not quite that, but Gudrun knew that it would be unkind to refuse what the housekeeper offered her, and so she drew a second chair up to the kitchen table and called out, “You must have some with me, Frau Bürste.”

The housekeeper reappeared, her expression startled. “You should not eat here, Meine Frau.”

“I’m not interested in sitting alone in the dining room with so much on my mind, and the salons are not set up for serving meals. It’s less trouble for all of us if I have my coffee here with you.” She was able to explain this pleasantly, and wondered if it might be unkind to create this familiarity with her housekeeper. “This way, we will not be disturbed.”

The housekeeper smiled, and there was such pathetic gratefulness in her eyes that Gudrun had to look away from her. Frau Bürste came up to the table with two plates, each with a tart on it, and set them down. “I’ll make the coffee, and you can tell me what Herr Natter said. There must be some way to determine how he got his information.”

“Yes, I hope there is,” Gudrun said politely.

It was more than an hour later that Gudrun left the kitchen, and her brow was furrowed in thought. She made her way through the halls toward the part of Wolkighügel that had once been designated the servants’ wing. It was largely unused now, for only Otto kept quarters there. For once, Gudrun did not look forward to seeing the old man, and try as she would, she could think of no kind way to question him. She hoped that he might be busy somewhere in the house, and provide her an excuse to delay her conversation for a day or an afternoon or half an hour. But advancing age had taken its toll on the old servant, and it had become his custom to spend two hours resting in the afternoon, and he opened the door to his rooms on Gudrun’s second knock.

He has so little hair, she thought as she stepped through the door. When had it gone? He was always a little bald, but now his pate was shiny, without even a trace of down to remind him of the hair he, had once possessed in such abundance. “Otto? May I speak with you for a moment, please?”

Otto beamed at her and motioned her to a chair. “Ach, ja,” he said, his slippered feet making scuffing sounds on the threadbare carpet. “Of course, Rudi. At any time.”

Gudrun tried to respond to this fondness and discovered that she could not. Her hands were knotted at her sides and she could not look at Otto without dreading what he would tell her., “You are feeling well?” she inquired, buying herself a little time.

“Of course, of course. The knees are a bit stiff in the morning, and my hands, sometimes, but that is expected at my age, eh?” His manner was jocular but his watery eyes were wary. “I’m doing quite well, Rudi.”

“I’m pleased to hear it,” she said inanely as she sat down.

“But that isn’t why you’re here, is it?” he said as he sat down opposite her. He gave her an anxious smile. “You haven’t been back here in … well, it is more than a year, of course.”

“That long?” Gudrun asked, as much of herself as of Otto.

“At least. You brought me my supper when I had that bad cold, but for the most part, you leave me to myself. Maxl used to come and talk to me,” he added with a sense of injury. “He’d come here of an evening and tell me of his activities, and what was in store for Deutschland. He had real faith in the Vaterland, not like some of the others who’ve forgotten how much the world owes to us.” He had found his pipe and was stuffing tobacco into it in an absentminded fashion.

“I didn’t know that Maximillian talked with you,” Gudrun said quietly.

“Of course he did. He could not talk to you, he told me that many times. But he knew that I respect the old ways.” He nodded repeatedly and lit a match, holding it out before bringing it up to his pipe.

“And you both thought I do not?” Gudrun felt hurt, and wished she could find words to defend herself. “I have tried to live as my father and husband wished me to.”

“Your father and husband never wanted you to befriend Jews or foreigners,” was the crusty retort that Otto gave without apology.

“You mean the Schnaubels and Graf Ragoczy?” Gudrun demanded, angry with herself for feeling such a child in Otto’s presence.

“Among others,” Otto answered as he drew on his pipe. “You’re a woman, and you’ve lacked guidance, so it’s understandable that you would not…”

This was precisely the same sort of infuriating nonsense that Gudrun had heard from Konrad Natter, and she had no patience with it. “It is not for you to advise me, Otto. I am responsible for myself. If you believe this of me, you should have asked to be released from your duties here and given notice.”

“But someone had to look after you,” Otto protested, his weak old eyes unexpectedly moist. “And I promised Maxl—”

“Promised Maxl?” Gudrun asked, a coldness coming over her. “When? What did you promise my brother?”

Otto avoided her eyes. “He wanted to be sure you were safe. He was worried about you. I know you think he did not know what you were going through, but he had more important things on his mind. He had to attend to them, for your sake as well as his. Your family honor required it.” As he became more defensive, his voice got louder, so that he was nearly shouting when he finished speaking.

“My family honor required that Maximillian kill himself? That he waste our money until there was nothing left? How does that benefit the family, Otto? Tell me,” She stared at him, thinking that he was a stranger to her, a man who had come from the past when she was a child, indulged and careless. He had never seen her as anything else, she recognized that now, and had loved her brother because he was the son of the family, endowed with all virtues by that fact.

“That was something else. The Bruderschaft has its rules, Rudi, and Maxl was not one to take his vows lightly.” His tone was becoming surly: Gudrun had cast doubt on his beloved Maxl.

“The Bruderschaft required that he kill himself.” She wondered if Otto had become senile and had lost himself in imagined memories and dreams. One of her uncles had done that, always thinking that it was time to lead a battalion against the Poles. Everyone had politely ignored him, allowing him his fancies when they were not too inconvenient. She decided she must do the same with Otto. “Did he tell you why?”

“It was the nature of his vow. Those of the Bruderschaft serve high purpose, and their goals are the most exalted. Any man who does not believe that he has lived up to the demands of the Bruderschaft has an obligation to erase his failure from their company. Maxl always demanded such perfection of himself…” He wiped his nose with an old gray handkerchief.

“This is the Thule Bruderschaft? The one that Eckart leads?” She had always assumed that the organization was typical of so many men’s brotherhoods, an excuse for privacy and casual debauchery.

“They are great men, those of the Bruderschaft. Maxl was worthy of them, but could not see the greatness in himself.” Otto huddled back in his chair, his shoulder toward Gudrun, “He told me that you did not understand, Rudi. He explained it all to me.”

“Perhaps if he had explained it to me as well, I might have been more lenient with him,” she suggested shortly. What was it that her brother would confide to a servant but not to his sister? She sighed, and Otto, hearing it, was more kindly disposed to her.

“There, Rudi. I know it’s been hard without him, but you will learn. I will help you…” He drew deeply on his pipe. “The Bruderschaft will watch over you.”

Gudrun narrowed her eyes. “Herr Natter and Herr Rauch are in the Bruderschaft, aren’t they?”

“Both of them,” Otto answered with pride. “And both of them respect Maxl. They were the ones the Bruderschaft sent to discuss his vow with him. They were with him that last day, trying to dissuade him from his disastrous act.” He fingered his loosely knotted tie and nodded two or three times.

“How do you know?” Gudrun managed to keep her voice level as she asked, but her thoughts screamed in her mind. Those two men had been with Maximillian before he killed himself. What had they said to him? What had made him write to her as he had done? She knew better than to ask Otto, but the malaise that had been growing within her became a deep-rooted anguish.

“Maxl told me. I saw them.” Otto responded gruffly. “I went to the gamekeeper’s, cottage to speak with Maxl, and he said they had left.”

But had they? The question rose unbidden in Gudrun’s mind, shutting out the confusion. “Did he say anything else?”

This time Otto hesitated before he spoke. “He told me that I should … look after you, because you were … easily, misguided.”

“Unlike himself?” Gudrun could not restrain herself from asking.

“You don’t understand,” Otto declared once more. “You did not pay attention to anything he told you, and you would not let him show you how you were compromising yourself and your family and your country.”

“Which he was not.” She wanted to scream at Otto, to tell him that it was Maximillian’s profligacy that had brought them to the edge of ruin. Yet everything she had been taught since childhood weighed against this. Her hands trembled as she asked, “What have you done that he asked you to do, Otto?”

“The Bruderschaft…” He broke off. “Someone has to be responsible for you, and Maxl had the promise of the Bruderschaft that they would keep you from harm.” He sat straighter in his chair. “He entrusted me with the task of informing the Bruderschaft of your activities.”

“What!” Gudrun had expected this, but now that the words were spoken, her indignation and resentment flared within her. “You dared to discuss me with those men?”

“Rudi—” Otto began in his most conciliating manner.

But Gudrun gave him no opportunity to continue. “You spoke to Herr Natter and Herr Rauch about me? Did you? And you live here, accepting my wages which I have sacrificed so much to give you? You have eaten the food on my table, and then have told others about my life?”

“You’re not thinking, Rudi…” Otto said uncertainly.

“I believe you are right. I have assumed that you were loyal to me, and all the while you have been—”

“Rudi … this isn’t like you…” He reached out to pat her arm as he had done since she was four.

She moved back from him. “No! You do not know what I am like. You don’t admit what Maximillian was like. You were seduced by him, doting fool that you are, and you have been taken in by vile men!” She got out of the chair. “Konrad Natter was here today, presuming to tell me that I must give up my freinds because he did not approve of them. That happened because of you, Otto. You were the one who carried tales to them.”

“Maxl instructed me—” he began, then quailed as she rounded on him.

“Maxl!
Maxl!
MAXL!” she screamed; then her voice became tense and low. “Maxl had no right to do that, and you had no right to act as you have done. I tell you, Otto, I will not tolerate it. When Herr Natter informs me that I have been indiscreet with a man he does not approve of, I will not have it!”

“But Ragoczy came here at night, Rudi—”

“I am Frau Ostneige to you, Otto. I am not Rudi. Rudi was a child, and I have not been a child for a quarter of a century. You never saw this, and I, stupid creature that I am, found it charming that you still remembered me as I had been.” She went to the door. “Since you have chosen to give your respect and fealty to Natter and Rauch and the rest of the Thule Bruderschaft, you may get your keep from them as well.”

“What?” The old man was astonished; his faded blue eyes were huge with it.

“Tonight, Otto, I want you gone.” Why, she asked herself, was it so much worse that Otto had betrayed her instead of Frau Bürste or Miroslav? Was it that she had known him all her life and readily believed all she had been told of a servant’s fidelity?

“But…” He stared at her, one hand reaching out.

“Tonight. No later.” As she pulled the door open, she heard Otto cry out, “But I have always been at Wolkighügel. I have always served Altbrunnen.”